


chaotic maroon

by coldcupofwater



Category: Bayonetta (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 19:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15613536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldcupofwater/pseuds/coldcupofwater
Summary: is it gay to be in love with your self proclaimed rival





	chaotic maroon

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this on a whim after finishing bayo2 cause uhh i was so desperate for pre clan wars cerejeanne. but yeah i didn’t proofread this or anything idc if it’s coherent or not i just crave content

The ever-so-familiar clacks of heels echoed through the dreary hall, stirring Cereza from her thoughts. From the corner of her eye she could make out a distinctly crimson figure, strutting in her direction with no sense of discretion whatsoever. She couldn’t resist the urge to shake her head.

Soon enough that figure was at her side, the rusted bars of the cell separating her from Cereza. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” she teased, resting a gloved hand on her hip. Keys dangled at her fingertips. “You didn’t forget about our play date, did you?”

“I could never,” Cereza shook her head, watching as the scarlet witch unlocked and opened her cell door. “But goodness, Jeanne, could you be any more loud? Why, I’m sure the entire clan could hear you.” As soon as the door was unlocked she carefully swung it open, ducking out from the stuffy space and immediately stretching her stiff limbs. One would think, considering how long Cereza had been locked up in that stuffy cell, that she would be accustomed to it. That was, to an extent, true. Just enough space to crawl but barely enough room to stand. Why, this space was all she knew. While it was at the very worst unfit for the average Umbran witch.

But Cereza was far from average.

A barely audible ‘hmph’ followed by the spin of the heel came from Jeanne. “Everyone should be asleep,” she replied, strolling further into the hall without looking back; Cereza followed close behind. “Tomorrow is a big day, after all.” She stopped, withdrawing her guns in a dramatic manner and turning to face her friend. “Don’t tell me you forgot about that, too?”

Cereza smirked, withdrawing her own guns—not truly her own, as she’d never been gifted any by the elder, but she had been borrowing them from Jeanne for so long that they were essentially hers—and assuming the only battle stance she knew. “Of course not, dear,” she cooed, aiming a gun toward her. “Though, I am surprised you would choose to play with me than to get your beauty rest.” She added that last part with pursed lips and a wink.

“Oh, enough chit-chat,” Jeanne replied, raising her own pistol to Cereza’s. Her commanding voice shifted the air of the battleground, and, almost as if on cue, the thick mass that had clouded the ceiling window parted, allowing sunshine to pour into the room.

And so, without another word, their duel had begun, the once silent air now brimming with grunts and gunshots. As always, they’d matched each other blow for blow, seemingly aware of how the other would move next and what to do to counter. Even so, their battles were always more exciting than the last. Cereza constantly found herself pushing her body and abilities to their brink just to keep up with her, which, while exhausting, left her exhilarated.

When it appeared Jeanne’s torso was open, Cereza launched a powerful kick towards her gut. It had seemed, unfortunately, that her timing was slightly late; Jeanne had long since recovered from her previous counter and thus had ample time to avoid the kick with a backflip. In less than half the time it took to blink, she had landed a kick of her own at Cereza’s side, causing the latter to stumble. Even so, she could not relax her guard just yet. If there was one thing she knew for certain about Cereza, it was that she could spin any fight in her favor in any given moment. Cereza recovered quicker than expected, nearly taking Jeanne by surprise before combat resumed as before.

Oh, how quickly her dear Cereza had improved. Through the disparity between Jeanne and Cereza’s training was great, her skill had always seemed to be right on par with the heiress’. To Jeanne, it was...frustrating to say the least. Talent, when cultivated, had the potential to yield incredible results. That was the message her mother drilled into her. Yes, both were incredibly talented, that much she could not deny. But Jeanne’s was the one being cultivated,  _ not  _ Cereza’s.

_ So why? _

Jeanne whipped the barrel of her pistol indiscriminately at her opponent’s face, which Cereza catches with a smirk—almost  _ too _ easily.

_ Why? _

Before she could rip her weapon from her grasp, Cereza grabbed her by the forearm. Jeanne’s eyes widened, and instinct compelled her to bring her knee up through the gap between Cereza’s arms and crash it into her chin. Cereza seemed to have predicted the move, however, as she conveniently released Jeanne and flung herself backward to avoid the hit. Another smirk, more wicked than the last.

_ Why was Cereza so much stronger? _

Both roll out of action with a seemingly synchronized flip and land on either side of the battlefield, guns blazing. For a moment, neither moves, and the air is filled with silence once more. The room darkens to its original state as the thick grey clouds roll back in, preventing all but a handful of weak saffron rays to peek through.

Jeanne was the first to lower her weapons. With a relaxed shrug, she sighed, “Well, I do believe that’s quite enough for tonight. Don’t you?” She couldn’t deny that she had always been somewhat envious of the outcast’s abilities. However, instead of internalizing these feelings and coming to resent her--as many had, though for different reasons--

Cereza lowered hers as well. “Of course,” she said, a sweet smile playing at her lips. “You do have a big day ahead of you, after all. Some rest would do you good. But first…” Tilting her head slightly, she crossed her arms and pouted. “Tell me, Jeanne, you weren’t going easy on me, were you?”

“Hm? Oh no, of course not! I’ve just,” she paused, fumbling through her thoughts for a decent explanation. She eventually sighed, “I’ve got a lot on my mind, is all. I’m sorry.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie, at least.

Cereza fell silent for what seemed to be a full minute. “Come with me.”

…

While unsure how Cereza had gained access into the clock tower or how she managed to hide an untouched bottle of wine and two glasses within it, Jeanne graciously accepted the glass, downing nearly all of its contents the moment it touched her lips. With a hefty sigh, she rested her elbows atop the southmost windowsill and let her gaze wander. The late afternoon sun kissed the mostly dark landscape, plastering the slightest tangerine filter upon all that it touched. At the end of the day, she could always rely on the outcast to be a good friend to her.

As she set the bottle at her feet, Cereza hoisted herself atop the southmost windowsill and raised an eyebrow at her friend. “Now tell me, Jeanne, what seems to be bothering you so much? You’re not the type to let your mind wander in battle, so it must be something big.”

Swirling her glass absentmindedly, she replied, “It’s just nerves, is all.”

“Oh? Do you have any idea whom you’ll be dueling tomorrow?”

Jeanne groaned this time. “I’ve sparred with so many powerful witches, my head spins just thinking about it.” She brought the glass to her lips again to empty it of its contents, pushing herself off the sill to pour herself another glass.The duel was the only event of her coronation that she felt uneasy about. She wasn’t necessarily concerned about winning or losing—as she figured she wouldn’t be worthy of leading the clan if she couldn’t defeat one of her sisters anyway—as much as she was who she would battle. While a weaker opponent would yield an easy victory, she would not feel as though she truly won.

Cereza’s eyes narrowed through her mask, sparing her a seemingly knowing look. “Hmm?”

“Tomorrow,” she began, swirling the glass again as she returned to her spot. “Tomorrow I will defeat our strongest sister in battle and earn my right to lead the Umbra.”

Briefly she’d considered challenging Cereza. She was undoubtedly one of the strongest opponents she had ever faced and a good majority of their fights ended in a draw.

Now there was a spark in Cereza’s eyes. The mere mention of a worthy adversary was enough to rouse her. “Oh?” she cocked her head. “And just who might  _ that _ be?”

“Patience, Cereza,” Jeanne spoke through a sigh. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Neither said anything for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence along with the view from the tower. Jeanne had found herself pushing herself off that sill several more times amidst that silence, only ceasing when there was no more wine to be poured. Final glass in hand, she returned to the windowsill one last time, her head practically resting on Cereza’s thigh. Her motions were severely less calculated than normal, as the wine nearly spilled from her glass when she swirled it. 

Jeanne redirected her gaze to her friend. Even through the mask and robes obscuring her face, Jeanne couldn’t deny the outcast’s incredible beauty. The light fell upon her form in the loveliest possible way, and she wished for a moment that she could capture this sight in a photo . Bland as it was, she seemed to be enjoying the view. She couldn’t blame her; it wasn’t often Cereza got a chance to see the outdoors, let alone leave her cell.

Setting her glass to the side and letting her cheek fully rest against Cereza, Jeanne finally spoke, “Cereza,” closing her eyes as a particularly warm bout of wind gust past her face. She heard her friend shift above her, likely to turn and face her. “Do—...Do you resent the Umbra?”

Cereza huffed, something akin to a grin playing at her lips. “My, where did that come from?” she chuckled. 

“You know,” Jeanne began, waving a hand absentmindedly as if to gather her thoughts. “What with how awful everyone has been to you. Being the outcast and all, I…” she trailed off, her hand slowing to a stop. “Well. I wouldn’t think any less of you if you harbored this sentiment.”

For a moment Cereza was quiet, her previously playful expression growing blank, and for a moment Jeanne feared she said something she shouldn’t have. “Has your imagination always been so active?” she eventually spoke up, turning back to the window. “I don’t feel that way at all. In fact, I’ve found much to love within the clan.”

Now it was Jeane’s turn to be curious. “Much?” she raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Such as?”

Lips pursed, she brought a finger to chin and tilted her head in mock thought. “Hmm…” Cereza hummed, bringing her glass to her lips. “Mummy, for sure.”

Jeanne chuckled. “I figured that much. Anything else?”

Clouds had begun rolling in again, thicker and greyer than the ones from earlier. While it was still daytime, all traces of sunlight had essentially vanished. The breeze, still comfortably warm, had picked up slightly.

She swirled her glass slowly then brought it back up for another sip, halting right before it could reach her lips. The soft pitter patter of rain against the stone walkways far below was barely audible as she spoke, “You, of course.”

It took a moment for those words to register in Jeanne’s mind, and another for her to even begin to react. “Wh...” Her brows furrowed and she finally turned to face the outcast, who was now taking a long sip of her wine. “Cereza, you couldn’t possibly mean that—”

“Why, of course I do. I’ve felt this way for quite some time, now,” she replied, effectively cutting her off. She tilted her glass towards Jeanne like a pointer and continued, “Now I hope that clears up all your suspicions, dear. We should be heading back soon, anyway.” She brought the glass back to her lips and emptied its contents in one fell gulp. “The rain will only worsen if we stay here any longer. Not to mention you have a big night ahead of you.” Taking Jeanne’s empty glass from her hand, Cereza left the sill to set it and her own beside the wine bottle.

Uncharacteristically frazzled, Jeanne shoved herself off that sill one last time, stumbling to keep her balance. “Cereza, hold on…” Her mind was so scattered, she couldn’t seem to get firm enough grasp of her thoughts to form a semi-coherent sentence. “I—”

“You don’t have feel obligated to say anything,” she turned back slightly, her expression softer than before. “Let’s head back, Jeanne.”

**Author's Note:**

> i’ll delete this eventually


End file.
